


small mercies

by orphan_account



Category: Gintama
Genre: Gen, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do not thank me,” she said, turning around. “This is hardly a kindness.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	small mercies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perennials](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/gifts).



> For Elmer, who requested Mutsu for the 3-sentence fic prompt. (I have chosen to ignore the "3-sentence" part, though.) I hope that you'll enjoy reading this! This takes place before Mutsu met Sakamoto, when she was still the Vice-Commander of the 2nd Division of the Chidori space pirates.

+

                      _Just my child,_ the mother said, pleaded, cradling her baby to her chest.

                      A young woman, somewhere in her twenties; black haired like most of the others. She was rocking her baby to sleep in her arms as she said it, looking Mutsu straight in the eyes behind the bars, a spark of will still not yet lost.

                      The baby, Mutsu could tell, was barely a year old, covered in grey pieces of torn rags that could only keep her a little warm in the cold cells, most of the other warmth coming from her mother’s body. She was sucking on her thumb quietly, for now unaware of her surroundings. It was a sight that Mutsu was not expecting to see when she was patrolling the cells and heard the noise of a baby crying:

                      Loud, and echoing throughout the hallways but dying out quickly as if someone covered the mouth of that crying sound, tenderly soothing that cry to a sleepiness.

                      Mutsu went for the source as was her job to do so, but it was almost unexpected, this.

                      The mother, at first, had wanted to ask her for a favor which Mutsu took to assume that it was to let the two of them go, so she cleared her throat and stood her ground. There used to be such similar pleads in the past, pleads that Mutsu had to learn to steel her heart to.

                      “We’re running a business here,” she said, almost unkindly, cutting her off in hopes of discouraging her. Glancing around at the other slaves in the cell, Mutsu added, “It would also not be fair to the others if we let you go.”

                      The mother of the child then shook her head quickly. “Not me. Just my child. I will remain."

                      Mutsu raised an eyebrow, a little confused.

                      “Just your child,” she repeated. “Then who will take care of her? Your husband?”

                      “No,” the mother said, this time her voice a little softer, “he’s passed away. It’s because of his debts that we were sold here. But my child, she’s only so young. She can’t possibly survive here or wherever we’ll be sent to.” Mutsu exhaled; the mother looked as though she was nearly tearing up, but it did not seem like she was done talking, so Mutsu waited for her to finish.

                      “Please,” the mother continued, “I have a sister—she can take care of my child if you bring her there. She’ll—“ she fumbled through her clothes for a piece of paper. “—Here, this is where she lives.”

                      The mother reached her hand out through the gaps of the cell with that slip of paper.

                      And there, in that moment, existed a slight hesitation somewhere inside Mutsu, her hands almost reaching for the keys to the cells despite her father’s words at the back of her head. _Do not show any weakness. Do not show any kindness._ Pecking at her like a sharp beak. Her thoughts were interrupted when the mother said, “I know you’re not like those other pirates.”

                      Mutsu glanced at her, less coldly than earlier. “You’re only saying that. It won’t work."

                      “Is that so,” the mother muttered. A smile tugged at the side of her lips this time, like she’s waiting for something.

                      Mutsu clenched her two fists, digging her nails into her palms. But eventually her hand still went to her pocket, and she stepped forward. The cell doors opened with a click, and immediately the other slaves, taking this chance, ran toward the door in hopes of attacking Mutsu together and escaping, but they were swatted down easily like flies. Mutsu stood at the cell door. A shadow casted vividly.

                      “I won’t free you,” she said to the mother, _I can’t,_ as if reminding herself. The mother only nodded, understanding. Mutsu knelt, and reached her two hands out reluctantly for the child. “Do not make me regret this.”

                      Only that she already had. Not once had she ever defied her father directly like this.

                      Gripping the slip of paper and cradling the child as tenderly as she could, like holding wool, precariously, fearing her own strength might crush the child without her knowing, Mutsu exited and locked the cell doors again.

                      When she stood outside, the mother, who was still watching her, smiled, bowing her head best as she could, and said, “Thank you.”

                      The child in her arms stirred, a small incoherent noise, and Mutsu looked back at the mother, the blue-black bruises on her body and the little cuts and dried blood, her disheveled black hair, the torn kimono she was wearing, the jarring memory of her voice when she pleaded behind the bars, and Mutsu bit her lips harshly enough to draw blood.

                      “Do not thank me,” she said, turning around. “This is hardly a kindness.”

+


End file.
